Mad Men...Mmm

As I sit here watching the glorious splendor that is Mad Men I wonder how long I would have lasted back in the 1960s since I tend to be a loud, opinionated female with a mind of her own. While I most likely would have been a "Peggy" due to my high intelligence and ability to be one of the boys (not a hint of narcissism there), I actually dig the odd, simple and quite nature of Betty. She may have it all: the hot husband, the big house in the burbs, two kids, a hot body, great hair and a closet full of the latest fashion.

I know she is married to a, albeit super sexy, terminal cheater who smokes more than a fire and favors one too many bourbons while demeaning her very being, but I envy her. Sometimes I feel like I want to be made a fool by a man like Don Draper and not say anything when he comes home after "working late" smelling like a Upper East Side floozy as he lights up another cig at the dining room table to eat the pot roast I spent all effen day cooking in between ironing, cleaning and taking care of the two bratty kids we had because "that's what you do" after you get married. Oh, and to spend all day getting gussied up to only have to sit through the dull evening with your colleagues that all know you are a cheating bastard when you think you live a Ken and Barbie lifestyle (although didn't Ken end up being gay? Anyways...).

I think I am smelling a little social experiment in the works. Does being a quite, weird women attract a playboy like Don Draper? Could be fun to find out. Then again, do I really want to put myself into a potentially emotional abusive relationship just to play out some silly 1960s housewife fantasy? Um, I hate to say it but...maybe.

Hey fat ass!

I finally got off my lazy butt and made it back to the gym today. I have a feeling this new found sense of urgency to get fit again came from my recent trip to the Gulf Coast beaches of Florida where the white sand shoreline was filled with motivating visions of large-and-in-charge women in tiny bikinis waddling along under the hot sun. Not the postcard vision of Florida I was expecting. On a positive note, I felt super hot and most of them were with very good-looking men, despite some resemblance to Tweedle-D. While I saw firsthand that there are many men out there who so enjoy more cushion for the pushin' so to speak, it still made me realize that I need to get my ass in gear, and pronto.

Don't worry, I am not one of those annoying skinny girls who thinks she needs to loose 20 pounds (so she can be an effin size 4 that is). I am 5'2" and weigh 1...ha! As if I were going to blast that number online, but really I could stand to drop a few L-Bs. So to be as healthy as possible in this endeavour, I am choosing to re-commit myself to Weight Watchers, although I really wish they had leaders who yelled and shamed you into losing weight, eat as much raw food as possible and actually go to the gym on the regular. So thank you Florida for hosting such fat asses on the beach, it really motivated me to get healthy.

Destination location: The airport please

I used to be one of those people that got all snobby and thought the U.S. doesn't have any real culture. I mean, come on people, it's not culture unless it twirls in fancy skirts, beats drums, speaks a foreign language, has weird food you can't identify, and well, basically looks nothing like a purebred white boy with a Boston cap - right? Oh no, no, no this is just not true, so I am learning. There are so many sub-cultures that exist in this sprawling country from west coast, to the south, the north and to the east (and all those useless states in the middle right?) we are different, some might say unique really, with little splendors that set us just the slightest bit apart from one another. The great thing about it is, I don't need to play golf in Arizona, deep sea fish in the San Juan Islands, ride a horse in Texas, catch some jazz in New Orleans, or hail a cab in New York City to get the gist of what these people are like. I just need about 10 minutes in their airport.

It should really be a vacation package of sorts, what with all the great restaurants, bookstores, upscale duty-free shopping, sometimes free music if you're lucky, plus the walls are adorned with great local facts, figures and pictures of the area. Why leave? Some could even be considered Eco-tourism, like Portland, which has a very sustainable airport you know. I'm digressing here, back to the people and culture. My travels have allowed me to stop off in many different airports and therefore given me just a glimpse into the local cultures and I thought I would share a few of those with you now, tell me if I am stereotyping too much by all means:

• Chicago: rude (a little smile and hello is much welcomed after being out of the country for 6 damn months thank you), dirty, gray, crowded, good looking businessmen, cold, great food, drab with only a hint of fun in the sports bar.
• Los Angeles: lack of intelligence (don't get me started here), crowded, an air of haughtiness, wait a minute am I in Mexico?, great variety of salads, lots of colorful clothes, fake boobies, fake blondes, lots of "important people" and nothing is on time.
• Hawaii: very friendly ("Aloha! Oh my, I am so sorry, but it looks like you have been randomly selected for additional screening. Is that okay? Mahalo." I'm not kidding), great tropical drinks, breezy tropical breezes, lots of flowers, smiles all around, no worries, no rush.
• Arizona: nobody pays any attention to anything, lots of tan people, the majority are pretty fit looking, people seem smart, they may own stock in the khaki shorts and sun visor industry, golf shirts everywhere and most of the women look like soccer moms with extra, sun-freckled cleavage and bachelor's degrees.
• Charlotte: more "colorful" if you will, fried food at every gate, people appeared a bit, um, stupid really with how they talk ("We be boarding zone 1 and 2 now" & "You be allowed one carry on..."), slow walkers, less fit in appearance that Arizona that's for sure, no apparent style to be noted, unless stretch cotton is the new thing.
• Portland: uber clean, bright, very "green," tons of stuff about nature all over, coffee shops galore, 8 out of 10 people wear brown shoes (this is my own personal survey I have conducted many times over the years), lots of readers, and super friendly people who keep to themselves.
• San Fran: almost as rude as Chicago, rushing, everything is a rush, good looking people everywhere (if you are into the stock broker looking, leather shoes, trench coat thing, yum), newspapers abound, good food variety, lots of coffee options, confusing, everyone appears to be doing something or going somewhere.

Ah...unemployment

People seem to be intrigued that I have stayed unemployed for such a great length of time, as if I prefer this lifestyle or something. I get a great deal of the classic, and frankly annoying, comments of "must be nice" in that sing-songy tone that is only intended to imply that my life is crazy good and I should feel sorry for them because, wah, they have to go to work 5 days a week. Because yes my dear friend, it is nice not having a steady income and have to rely on Uncle Sam to barely pay my bills each month. Oh, and it is so lovely to send out over a hundred (that is not an exaggeration) resumes, portfolios, applications, cover letters and the like to either get no response at all, or better yet a lovely letter telling you about how you would be a perfect fit, have killer qualifications, but they really just don't care to even bother interviewing you.

I know I shouldn't be complaining all that much, and that I should be grateful that at least I don't have a mortgage to worry about, kids to feed, I have my health, blah, blah, blah, but I have had to make some adjustments that make it hard to look at the glass as half full. It's not easy when you aren't able to feed your shoe habit the way you are accustomed to. It's also highly discouraging to choke down my well (ugh) whiskey and diet, get chased by damn wasps while washing my own car (finally decided I live in Oregon and who cares), buy my $4.50 hair color (that's after the double coupons), or have to actually budget in a Taco Bell splurge, because there is nothing like an occasional double beef burrito to keep you regular.

Bottom line, it is "nice" to be able to sleep in as late as I want, mooch of my parents more than usual, not shower for 3 days if I so desire, spend hot summer days at the river, volunteer, and have time to read a good book a week. I have to be honest though, as much fun as it is to see how long you can go without shaving your pits, I would much rather be meeting up with friends for happy hour to have a much needed bitch session about how unappreciated I am at work and how much better I am than half the people there. Come on, everyone says or at least thinks that, so don't be judging me. If something doesn't "come along soon" (another comment that makes me want to whistle and skip) I may end up finding my calling as an unemployment support group leader. We'll meet up at the pub with the $1 Pabst beers and kareoke, so we can at least drown our sorrows with cheep beer and bad music.

A jolly, gay ol' time

Times are rough right now, what with the high unemployment rates, health care debates, worries of swine f -oops I mean N1H1 virus, and for us single ladies, the lack of good-looking, fun, honest men who just want to find their best friend to spend the rest of their lives with climbing pyramids, laughing at each other's lame attempts at real humor, having crazy wine-induced sex while vacationing in Spain before coming home to our fabulous flat in the city where our extremely intellectual and amazingly cultured friends come to enjoy a fabulous night of conversation...okay, I went too far, but I think you get the point. Anyways, after little consideration, I have decided to go gay.

I am not writing off all men in favor of the female-persuasion, don't get me wrong, but I am utilizing my gay male friends a lot more, what with my stream of unfortunates lately. I'm not giving up though, I do believe that there is someone out there for me, I just need a little pit stop on that eventual road to bliss. It just so happens that my pit-stop involves being made to feel like you are the hottest chica in the room, late night cuddle sessions, romantic comedies, hot men, and great dance clubs. I'm not pulling a total Will & Grace here, but a little dose of cheeky, neurotic behavior can't be that bad for my single soul.

Hola, how much?

As many of you may know, I am currently seeking a job beyond honing my fabulous cooking skills, reliance on government funding and being a damn good social (and highly educated I might add) butterfly. So when I ventured out last night to down a few at the local pub my buddy works at I was expecting a night of bad karaoke, strong drinks, local drunks and non-thought provoking conversion - not an unconventional, albeit slightly enticing, job offer.

The older I get the less I am shocked by people, so when a very middle-aged Latino entered the bar, we'll call him Señor Suave for fun, I wasn't at all shocked that he wanted to talk to me. I was however a wee bit shocked at what he wanted to talk to me about. What started out as a very interesting conversation about his family history (his family lived in the Los Angeles area when it still belonged to Mexico, kinda cool) and the general bar-friendly chit-chat that means nothing really, was very quickly turning into the very first solicitation for my services.

Apparently my slight interest in Señor Suave's life translated to him thinking I would actually consider being taken on as an, um, personal assistant of sorts. Thankfully since the conversation was all taking place in Spanish I was the only one privy to my being cheapened. So according to my dark, wrinkly suitor, I was to be outfitted in all the expensive clothes I would want, have use of his Mercedes convertible and even get a flat in the Pearl. I don't know what offended me more, the fact that he thinks I would actually want to live in the fakeness and un-authenticity that is the Pearl District, or that I appeared to be someone that would consider such a thing as being "paid" for sleeping with a man. Oh but wait, I wouldn't have to sleep with him, he promised me, he was just looking for beautiful (aw shucks), young woman to have good conversation with. Ha, yeah right, what am I stupid? I could forsee the requests for a junior high school style hand job in exchange for the new Hermès scarf I would have never before looked twice at, before becomming a kept-woman that is.

Funny thing is, beyond my getting asked to be a hooker of course, that when I told my mother about this her first question was "Well was he at least good looking?" Really? Really mom? As if that would make a difference and then maybe, just maybe, I should have at least considered the poor guy. Okay, maybe it would have, I can't lie.

I give wedding advice...huh?

I got published again! Whoop whoop! Another little quirky story about wedding advice. I'm not married you say? Um, exactly :) Check it out HERE.

To Whom It May Concern:

For those who have been in the job application mode lately, you may get a kick out of this, and for those not, well you may get a giggle as well. You see, I keep getting these fabulous rejection letters from potential employers telling me how great I am, but no thanks. So, I think we should start sending them out for all types of rejection, because come on, why limit it to just the job market?

Dear potential boyfriend/girlfriend,

I would like to thank you for taking the time to apply for a position as my potential significant other. You have an excellent history of not cheating, a great background in commitment and are fluent in great conversation. However, after much consideration I have decided to interview other men/women for this position.

I will keep your application on file for future positions if the other idiot that I decide to choose happens to not work out, or I get extremely drunk and call you at 2am, whichever comes first.

Sincerely,

Miss/Mr. Jerk

Here we go again...

I am quickly coming to the conclusion that all men really are created equal; equally confused and living in their own little twisted world that is. This may sound like a rant, call it what you will, but I am honestly over some of those who consider themselves a part of the male species. While I like to pride myself on being a bit of an oddity at times, come on, I usually get invited to hang with the boys on guy's night because I'm 'just cool like that', but when it comes to getting duped I admit, I will always be just one of the ladies.

The fact that being 'confused' seems to happen not just to me, but basically all of my female friends, is leading me to believe that it's not just us ladies that are simply not getting it. Perhaps, it's all you boys (read into the fact that I said boys and not men) that lead us to believe that there is actually something substantial and worthwhile happening that we should stick around for. Perhaps we just want to believe that what you say and what you do are going to be the same thing, or perhaps it's just wishful thinking that there are actually people out there that mean what they say. I tend to be a rather good judge of character; I rarely make things up in my head (really, I try not to, so not a good practice) but every now and then apparently I like to get really girlie and think that there may be something when there is nothing. Funny how that happens. Sucks how that feels.

I have to thank the author of He's Just Not That Into You for laying it out there like a real man. I don't think he will ever fully understand the gift he gave to us women who choose to actually heed his advice. If he is "too busy" to make time, yup, not into you. Can't because he just got out of a "serious relationship?" Yeah, um, not into you. "Confused" about his feelings? You guessed it, really just not that into you. You see, I am glad that with age comes the increasing wisdom to know that if someone is not willing to put out an ounce of effort, despite some of the above excuses, then they really just don't care enough, because people, if you are really into someone, there is nothing that will get in your way.